Gaza

Beirut, Lebanon and Gaza City, Palestine – Along Beirut’s downtown waterfront, Alaa is looking for somewhere to rest his head.

The Syrian refugee, originally from the occupied Golan Heights, is now homeless. He explained that he had already spent the day wandering around the Lebanese capital trying to find shelter.

He used to live in Dahiyeh – the southern suburbs of Beirut that have been pummelled by Israeli attacks, which have now killed more than 1,000 across Lebanon.

Now, he’s just looking for somewhere he can be safe. And in that context, Eid al-Fitr, the Muslim festival that began on Friday, is far from his mind.

When asked if he had any plans for Eid, he replied in the negative. Instead, his focus was on getting a tent.

“I got rejected from staying in a school, then I went to sleep on the corniche,” Alaa said. “Then people from the municipality told me to come here to downtown Beirut’s waterfront.”

Alaa wasn’t able to find a tent and is sleeping in the open air for now. But others in the area have, transforming a downtown more famous for its expensive restaurants and bars into a tent city for those displaced by the fighting. Across Lebanon, more than a million people have been displaced.

Lebanese are uncertain when this war will end, particularly as they have barely recovered from the conflict with Israel that ran between October 2023 and November 2024.

It makes celebrations difficult – a common theme across the countries affected by the current conflict.

In Iran, now in its third week of US-Israeli attacks – with no sign of an immediate end and an economic crisis that preceded the conflict, people are struggling to afford any of the items typically bought during the holiday season.

And it is potentially dangerous for people to shop at places like Tehran’s grand bazaar, which has been damaged by the bombing.

The religious element of Eid adds an extra sensitivity for antigovernment Iranians, some of whom now see any sign of religiosity as support for the Islamic Republic. The fact that Nowruz – the Persian New Year – falls on Friday this year means that some in the antigovernment camp will be focused on that celebration instead, and eschewing any events to mark Eid.

Struggling in Gaza

Many Palestinians in Gaza want to celebrate Eid, but the enclave’s economic crisis, brought on by Israel’s genocidal war, makes it difficult.

Israeli restrictions on the entry of goods into Gaza, which have increased since the war against Iran started, have driven up prices further, including the cost of children’s toys.

Khaled Deeb, a 62-year-old living in a partially destroyed home in Gaza City, had ventured into the central Remal market, curious to see how expensive fruit and vegetables had gotten in the run-up to Eid.

“From the outside, the Eid atmosphere looks lively and vibrant,” Khaled said, pointing to the crowded market. “But financially, things are extremely bad. People have all left their homes and are now living in tents and displacement. Everyone has lost everything during the war.”

Khaled says he can’t afford the fruit and vegetables, and will have to go without. Only “kings” could buy them, he said, not “poor and exhausted people” like him.

What makes it worse is his memory of what things were like before the war, when he owned a supermarket.

“During Eid, I would give my daughters and sisters gifts of more than 3,000 shekels ($950) when visiting them, not to mention preparing the house, buying Eid clothes for my children, and sweets and chocolates to welcome the holiday,” Khaled said. None of that is going to happen this Eid, even with a ceasefire in Gaza.

His sentiment was echoed by Shireen Shreim, a mother of three.

“Our joy in Eid is incomplete,” she said, as she wandered through the market. “We have come out of two years of war with immense hardship, only to face a life where even the most basic necessities are unavailable.”

And with Israel showing few signs that it is willing to stop violently attacking Palestinians, as well as other countries in the region, Shireen has no idea when Gaza will ever be rebuilt.

“I live in an apartment with completely hollowed-out walls,” she explained. “My husband and I put up tarps and wood, and we are continuing our lives. We are much better off than others.”

“Every time I return home, I feel sad,” she added. “As you can see, people are living in nylon and cloth tents in the streets, without any humane shelter. How will these people celebrate Eid?”

Back in Beirut, Karim Safieddine, a political researcher and organiser, is stoic. He said he would be celebrating Eid with his extended family, despite the difficult circumstances.

“Although we have been displaced by the war, we believe that consolidating these family bonds and creating a sense of communal solidarity is the first and foremost condition to survive this war,” Karim said.

“Without solidarity, we won’t be able to build a society, a country,” he said. “I think that’s a starting point for many people attempting to really create a sense of forward-looking vision for a country under bombs, without any form of toxic positivity, of course.”

As attention shifts to the Iran war, tighter restrictions on Gaza are driving shortages, price hikes and growing suffering, turning a time of celebration into one of anxiety for millions.

While the world’s attention is fixed on the Iran war, Israel has quietly tightened its chokehold on Gaza, further restricting the flow of goods and aid. As Eid al-Fitr begins, a time meant to be marked by joy and family gatherings, millions in Gaza are struggling under deepening shortages and rising hardship. What should be a moment of celebration has instead become one of anxiety, as the worsening crisis strips Eid of even its simplest pleasures.

The economic crisis is not merely a case of ordinary inflation or a temporary shortage of goods, but the result of a complex interplay between the Israeli occupation, local market dynamics, and broader regional and international strategies. Israel has repeatedly taken advantage of external tensions, such as those involving Iran or Lebanon, to justify tightening restrictions on the movement of goods through crossings while intensifying military pressure on Gaza. This leaves residents directly exposed to soaring prices and shortages of essential commodities.

Even when goods are available in the markets, some traders have taken advantage of the crisis to make excessive profits by raising prices unjustifiably. Tomatoes, for example, which used to be 3 shekels ($0.97) before the recent events, now cost 20 shekels ($6.48). Essential canned goods have increased at similar rates. Cooking gas now costs 80 shekels ($25.92) for an 8kg cylinder, meaning that a family may need about 640 shekels ($207.37) per month just to secure cooking gas. Electricity prices have also increased from 18 shekels ($5.83) per unit to 25 shekels ($8.10), while the cost of living for families who often rely on alternatives such as kerosene stoves (babur) for cooking instead of wood has risen sharply.

Price hikes do not stop here. Meat has become prohibitively expensive, essential medicines are increasingly inaccessible at reasonable prices, and even the simplest Eid traditions are now out of reach for many. This price manipulation reflects how some traders exploit the economic fragility and psychological pressure faced by residents, intensifying feelings of injustice and frustration among the population.

The ongoing war, repeated violations of ceasefire arrangements, and Israel’s broader strategy of using external conflicts as justification for military pressure have turned the narrative of “continuous security threats from Gaza” into a recurring pretext for closing crossings or using them as a tool of control. In this way, Gaza has increasingly become entangled in wider regional tensions and military calculations.

Under these circumstances, Eid al-Fitr in Gaza has become a symbol of daily hardship. Families are forced to choose between basic necessities and the traditions of the holiday. Meat, vegetables and cooking gas have become luxuries for many, while the majority struggle simply to secure the essentials of daily life.

Even when supplies exist, the monopolisation of goods and unjustified price hikes make the local market fragile and expose the weakness of Gaza’s economic structure. Every attempt to stabilise prices or increase supply faces strict restrictions linked to the blockade, creating opportunities for traders to secure quick profits at the expense of ordinary civilians.

In the end, Gaza’s crisis is not merely an economic issue; it reflects a complex intersection of occupation, blockade, commercial exploitation, and regional and international policies that have left the territory marginalised.

Eid al-Fitr, once a symbol of joy, has become a reminder of a lost celebration, but also a call for the international community to take meaningful action: to ensure the flow of humanitarian aid, protect civilians from exploitation and prevent human suffering from being turned into an opportunity for profit.

In a devastated enclave where more than two million Palestinians remain crammed into a shrinking strip of land under the overwhelming shadow of Israeli military occupation and bombardment, daily survival is tethered to a fragile October “ceasefire”.

But as Israeli and US bombs rain down on Iran, and Tehran retaliates across the region, that battered truce faces a breaking point, prompting an unprecedented diplomatic manoeuvre: direct talks between United States President Donald Trump’s “Board of Peace” and Hamas.

Envoys from the new body, personally headed by Trump to oversee post-war Gaza, but with more far-reaching designs, met with Hamas representatives in the Egyptian capital over the weekend, according to the Reuters news agency.

The meetings aimed to safeguard the “ceasefire”, which has been under even more severe strain since the regional war began on February 28.

Following the talks, Israel announced it would partially reopen the Rafah border crossing between Gaza and Egypt on Wednesday. The crossing, Gaza’s sole pedestrian lifeline outside direct Israeli control, was shut when the Iran offensive began.

Despite the diplomatic push, violence in the enclave persists. Israeli strikes on Sunday killed at least 13 Palestinians including two boys, a pregnant woman, and nine police officers, serving as a stark reminder of Israel’s all-encompassing military grip on the territory.

A pragmatic shift or tactical ploy?

While the talks mark a notable engagement by Washington, analysts view the move not as a legitimisation of the Palestinian group, but as a calculated tactic underpinned by the threat of renewed violence.

Abdullah Aqrabawi, a Palestinian political analyst, noted that Washington’s willingness to meet Hamas reflects a stark reality on the ground. “There is a comprehensive, realistic acknowledgement that the main military, political, and social actor in the Gaza Strip is Hamas,” Aqrabawi told Al Jazeera.

However, he warned against viewing the meetings as a fundamental shift in US policy. In the era of the Trump administration, diplomatic meetings do not equate with political recognition. Instead, Aqrabawi argued, the approach is framed by the constant threat of a return to a “war of extermination”.

The ultimate goal of these talks, he explained, is to empower a newly formed technocratic committee in Gaza to build a social base capable of challenging the armed group.

The illusion of ‘reverse blackmail’

Initial reports suggested that Hamas had threatened to abandon the “ceasefire” if Gaza border restrictions continued, purportedly using the regional chaos of the Iran war to force Israel’s hand.

Aqrabawi dismissed this assessment, noting that Hamas has consistently expressed a desire to avoid a return to full-scale war. Rather than a successful Palestinian pressure campaign, he said the reopening of the Rafah crossing serves a different strategic purpose for Washington and Tel Aviv.

“Any facilities, whether the Rafah crossing or allowing aid entry, come through the “Board of Peace” and the new technocratic committee formed in the Gaza Strip,” Aqrabawi said. “It is not a response to negotiations or Palestinian pressure, but rather in the context of allowing this committee to penetrate Palestinian society.”

He added that this aims to establish a security foundation that allows for the disarmament of the resistance, even if it leads to internal Palestinian civil conflict.

Disarmament and the 20-point plan

Prior to the regional escalation, Trump’s flagship Middle East initiative – a 20-point plan for Gaza – had partially halted the mass killings and secured the release of Israeli military captives and some Palestinian prisoners. In exchange, Hamas accepted a ceasefire that left the Israeli military occupying more than half of the enclave.

But the second phase of Trump’s plan, which hinges on Hamas laying down its weapons in exchange for amnesty and reconstruction, remains deadlocked. While some might assume the regional conflict gives Hamas leverage to scrap the disarmament clause entirely, Aqrabawi suggested the opposite is unfolding.

The US and Israel, heavily engaged in Iran, are likely intensifying pressure on the Palestinian group to secure a swift, enforceable victory in Gaza. “The pressure happening today on the occupation government and the American perspective of the war with Iran may push them to pressure Hamas to accomplish this task as quickly as possible,” Aqrabawi said.

Yet, Hamas remains resolute. The group views its weapons as essential for resisting the occupation and forming the foundation of future Palestinian security institutions.

As Washington and Tel Aviv attempt to use the spectre of renewed genocide to engineer Gaza’s political future, the reality for the Palestinians trapped inside the enclave remains unchanged. For them, the partial reopening of a single border crossing is not a diplomatic breakthrough, but a fleeting gasp of air in a besieged Gaza Strip where daily survival is held hostage to the demands of the military occupation.

Gaza City, the Gaza Strip – On February 28, Lama Abu Reida was just a few hours away from what she hoped would change the fate of her sick infant daughter, Alma.

The family had finally been informed that the baby girl – fewer than five months old and unable to breathe without an oxygen machine – was eligible for medical evacuation.

The small travelling bag was packed, the medical documents in order, and Abu Rheida ready to go. All that remained was to exit the Rafah crossing between Gaza and Egypt and from there head to Jordan, where Alma could undergo a surgery that was not available in the Gaza Strip.

But just one day before the scheduled March 1 trip, Israel shut Gaza’s crossings “until further notice”, citing security reasons. The decision coincided with the launch of a joint military attack alongside the United States on Iran – and shattered Abu Rheida’s hopes.

“They told me the crossing had been closed without any warning because of the war with Iran,” the mother says in a choked voice.

Alma, who suffers from a lung cyst, has been at Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, in southern Gaza, for more than three months now, with her mother staying by her side day and night.

“She cannot do without oxygen at all,” Abu Rheida says. “Without it, she becomes extremely exhausted.”

‘I don’t know what might happen’

The Rafah crossing, Gaza’s main gateway to the outside world, was closed for long periods during Israel’s genocidal war against Palestinians in the Strip that began in October 2023.

On February 1, Israel announced a limited reopening as part of a trial phase following a “ceasefire” with the Palestinian group Hamas. This allowed some movement under the agreement’s arrangements, particularly for medical cases.

But only a few patients were able to travel, and thousands remained on waiting lists until the February 28 closure, which stopped the transfer of wounded patients abroad, as well as medical evacuations of patients like Alma.

Doctors had told her family the only option for Alma, who was previously admitted to intensive care three times within a month, was to have surgery abroad to remove the cyst from the lung. While not particularly risky, such an operation cannot be done inside Gaza due to limited medical resources.

“My daughter’s life depends on a single surgery, and afterwards she could live a completely normal life,” Abu Rheida says.

“If her travel is delayed any longer … I don’t know what might happen. Her condition is not reassuring,” she adds in despair.

On Sunday, Israeli authorities said ⁠the Rafah crossing will ⁠open again on Wednesday for ”limited movement of people” in both directions.

‘The closure killed my children’

The very thing Abu Rheida fears is something Hadeel Zorob has already endured.

Zorob’s six-year-old son, Sohaib, died on March 1, 2025, while her eight-year-old daughter, Lana, passed away on February 18 last month. The two children suffered from a rare genetic disease that causes gradual deterioration in the body’s functions.

They were both waiting for medical referrals to travel abroad for treatment – but that never happened.

“I watched my children die slowly in front of my eyes, one after the other, without being able to do anything,” says Zorob, 32, breaking down in tears.

Lana was only a few days away from travelling before she passed away.

“My daughter’s travel had been scheduled around the same period when the crossing was later closed, but she died before that,” Zorob says.

“When the news of the crossing closure came, my grief for my daughter returned all over again as I remembered the many children who will suffer the same fate.”

Zorob says her children were still able to move and play relatively normally in the early stages of their illness.

Before Israel’s war on Gaza, both children were receiving specialised hospital treatment, which helped stabilise their condition to some extent. But as the Israeli attacks intensified, their condition gradually worsened until it reached a life-threatening stage. The collapse of Gaza’s healthcare system left the family struggling to access the medications they relied on.

“We even tried to bring the medicine from the West Bank, and I asked the Red Cross and the World Health Organization, but nothing worked,” Zorob says.

During the war, she and her family had to leave their home and move into a tent in the al-Mawasi area. The new displacament conditions made caring for the children much harder.

“Both were bedridden … in diapers, and their blood sugar needed regular monitoring. We had to give fluids and watch their food … all this in a tent with no basic necessities.”

Zorob says she feels like “going crazy” when she thinks that her children might have survived and improved if they were able to get treatment abroad.

“The closure of the crossings killed my children!” she adds, her voice filled with anguish. “The world gives no value to our lives or to the lives of our children … this has become something normal.”

Zorob says she is trying to stay strong for her third child, four-year-old Layan, despite the persisting pain.

“All I want is that what happened to my children does not happen to any other mother … that the crossing be reopened and that children and patients be allowed to travel.”

‘Is that too much to ask?’

According to the Health Ministry in Gaza, more than 20,000 patients and wounded people are waiting to travel abroad for medical treatment.

Among them are about 4,000 cancer patients in need of specialised care unavailable in Gaza, and roughly 4,500 children.

The lists also include around 440 “life-saving” cases needing urgent intervention and nearly 6,000 wounded people who require continued hospital care outside of Gaza.

The Al-Dameer Association for Human Rights has called the Rafah crossing’s closure a form of collective punishment for civilians in Gaza, warning that it “sentences more patients to death” and deepens Gaza’s humanitarian crisis.

For Amal al-Talouli, the closure of the Rafah crossing was another devastating blow in her battle with cancer.

The 43-year-old has been suffering from breast cancer for about five years. Although she underwent treatment before the war, the disease returned and spread to other parts of her body, including the spine.

“Praise be to God, we accept our fate,” the mother of two says. “Still, why should our suffering worsen because we are prevented from travelling and the crossings are closed?”

Al-Talouli is currently living with relatives after losing her home in the Beit Lahiya project area, in northern Gaza, during the war.

Displacement was not an easy choice due to her health condition, she says. The situation is compounded by a severe shortage of medications and specialised medical staff – a reality also experienced by other cancer patients in Gaza.

“There is a shortage of everything,” al-Talouli says. “I developed osteoporosis and eye fluid from chemotherapy. Chemo needs good nutrition, but malnutrition and famine made it much harder.”

Al-Talouli says the shutdown of the crossings made things worse.

“[It] affects us very, very much. No medicines are entering, and no essential treatments are coming in,” says al-Talouli, whose name was on a waiting list to travel outside of Gaza for treatment.

She stresses that cancer patients in Gaza urgently need support.

“Now I only want the crossing to reopen so I can have a chance to recover and continue my life with my children,” she says. “Is that too much to ask?”

“The Voice of Hind Rajab,” a heartbreaking retelling of the efforts to save a 6-year-old Palestinian girl amid Israel’s attacks on Gaza, will be honored at the 98th Academy Awards on Sunday — without one of its star players.

Actor Motaz Malhees, who stars in the film as Red Crescent dispatcher Omar, confirmed Thursday that he will be absent from the festivities because of President Trump’s travel ban against Palestinians. “I had the honor of playing one of the lead roles in a story the world needed to hear,” Malhees said on Instagram, “but I will not be there.”

“I am not allowed to enter the United States because of my Palestinian citizenship,” he added.

Trump announced his widened travel ban in December, noting his decision to “fully restrict and limit the entry of individuals using travel documents issued or endorsed by the Palestinian Authority,” along with people from countries including South Sudan and Syria. The president issued the order months after he presented his 20-point peace plan for the Gaza strip — efforts that some Palestinians feel have been now brushed aside amid U.S. and Israeli attacks against Iran.

Malhees said in his post that the restriction “hurts” but offered his followers and supporters a kernel of truth: “You can block a passport. You cannot block a voice.”

“The Voice of Hind Rajab,” directed by Tunisian filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania, is nominated in the international feature category. The film is set in a Red Crescent call center in Ramallah and centers the 70-minute phone recording of Hind’s pleas for help as she waits with her family in a trapped car for emergency responders. She and two medics dispatched to her location were killed in February 2024 in Israeli attacks in Gaza.

The film earned the grand jury prize at the Venice Film Festival.

Though unable to celebrate the film at the Oscars on Sunday, Malhees said he stands “with pride and dignity” and that his “spirit will be with the Voice of Hind Rajab that night.”

“Our story is bigger than any barrier, and it will be heard,” he said.

A representative for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

As Malhees publicized his absence, fellow stars including Oscar winner Riz Ahmed and Emmy-nominated “Succession” star Arian Moayed rallied in support.

“Your work in the film and the film itself are both incredible and will live on forever,” Ahmed commented.

“You are brilliant, azizam,” Moayed replied to Malhees. “And this is heartbreaking and unjust.”

Thousands rallied in central Madrid calling for an end to the war involving the United States, Israel and Iran, with protesters warning the conflict could escalate into a global war.

It took just two days for Lebanon to be dragged into the US-Israeli war against Iran.

After a ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah came into effect in Lebanon in November 2024, cross-border violence did not really end.

Now, nearly one million people have been forced from their homes.

The UN chief said Lebanon is part of a war it did not choose, but Israel is ramping up its offensive.

The Israeli defence minister says that if the Lebanese government will not rein in Hezbollah, Israel will.

So, what happens if it does? And what does that mean for civilians?

Presenter: James Bays

Guests:

Nadim Houry – Executive director of the Arab Reform Initiative

Maureen Philippon – Norwegian Refugee Council’s country director for Lebanon

Nicholas Noe – Editor-in-chief of the Beirut-based news service, Mideastwire.com

Israel has killed almost 600 people in Lebanon and displaced more than 750,000 in less than two weeks. This is the opening act of Israel’s Gaza doctrine applied to a new front. The formula is consistent: Displace – either by ordering people to leave or by destroying their means of survival. Demolish civilian infrastructure to prevent return and expand territory through so-called “buffer zones”. Fragment any coherent governance by carving territory into disconnected enclaves where military action continues at a lower intensity.

I spent three years working in Palestine before being expelled by Israeli authorities. I watched this doctrine develop in real time. Now, from Beirut, I am witnessing its replication.

In the West Bank, Israel has spent decades fragmenting territory and denying Palestinians any contiguous geography. Water wells sealed with cement, homes demolished over impossible-to-obtain permits, herders pushed from their land by illegal settlement outposts. In Gaza, the same logic was applied with far greater speed and fury.

In October 2023, Israel announced that every Palestinian north of Wadi Gaza had to leave immediately. Days earlier, Israel’s defence minister had declared a complete siege: No electricity, no food, no water. By labelling an entire population as the enemy, Israel created a class of expendable people. The military released maps with Gaza divided into numbered blocks. When your number was called, you were forced to leave. Evacuation orders became the alibi for the crimes that followed. People were ordered into al-Mawasi, a stretch of coastline Israel designated a “safe zone”, a concentration area for hundreds of thousands living in tents, where air attacks continued. So-called evacuation zones were depopulated and destroyed.

Classic counterinsurgency logic would have entailed “clear, hold, and rebuild”. Israel’s approach was radically different: Destroy, displace, dismantle. The goal was not to pacify territory but to empty it. In both Gaza and southern Lebanon, Israel has treated civilian populations as indistinguishable from the resistance they support. Their displacement is the objective. The collapse of their political representation is a condition Israel seeks to make permanent. This is settler-colonial logic in contemporary military form.

The same playbook has now arrived in Lebanon, but with a revealing difference from previous Israeli operations here. In the first Lebanon war in the 1980s, Israel sought to install a sympathetic government. Gaza has shown that Israel has abandoned that aspiration. The goal is no longer to determine who governs a territory but to ensure that no coherent governance exists at all. Nor is Israel alone in this; the UAE’s approach in Yemen and the Horn of Africa – and its support to Israel in Gaza – reflects the same preference for isolated enclaves. What has emerged is a regional doctrine of fragmentation shared between aligned powers.

Israel has issued evacuation orders for the entirety of southern Lebanon and southern Beirut. The familiar map that appeared on my screen in Beirut last week had the same design and the same deadly ambiguity as the ones we dealt with in Gaza; announced evacuation zones failed to match those shown on the map. In Gaza, those who crossed the invisible lines were killed.

Hundreds of thousands of people are now on the move. Schools have become shelters, health workers have been killed, and people are sleeping on the seafront where just two nights ago a tent was bombed. Israel has threatened to attack Lebanese state infrastructure if the government fails to act against Hezbollah – extending its aims from displacement and infrastructure destruction towards the forced destabilisation of the state itself. The Lebanese government has responded by forbidding Hezbollah from firing. This is precisely the internal fracturing that Israel’s strategy appears designed to provoke.

But Lebanon is not Gaza. Hamas was fighting with an improvised arsenal inside a besieged strip of land, and this already proved challenging for Israeli forces. Hezbollah commands more sophisticated weaponry, hardened infrastructure, and decades of preparation for this kind of war. It has shown it can absorb heavy blows and strike back, surprising both Israel and outside observers with the depth of its capabilities. Israeli ground operations in southern Lebanon and the Bekaa have already met significant resistance. It is here that the doctrine may encounter its limits – not through diplomatic pressure, which has failed to materialise, but through asymmetric military reality. Iran has made Lebanon’s fate explicitly part of any ceasefire calculus, signalling a unification of fronts that Israel had thought were weakened.

A doctrine built on the assumption of impunity has encountered little resistance in the conference halls of a so-called rules-based order. The Gaza doctrine is the expanded version of what Israel previously called the “Dahiyeh doctrine” – the use of overwhelming force against civilian infrastructure – now weaponised towards a larger end: The permanent redrawing of the region’s geography, demography, and political order.

This doctrine has developed in a vacuum of accountability. The International Court of Justice has been ignored. The Security Council has been paralysed. Governments have continued trading with Israel as it steadily normalised the unacceptable. Daniel Reisner, who headed the international legal division of Israel’s military advocate general’s office, was candid in saying that “If you do something for long enough, the world will accept it […] International law progresses through violations.”

The United States is not a bystander to this failure; it is an active participant in deepening it. At the Munich Security Conference earlier this year, Secretary of State Marco Rubio framed the transatlantic alliance in ethnonationalist terms and cast colonialism as a Western achievement. At an event in Tel Aviv, US Ambassador Mike Huckabee expressed confidence that Washington would “neuter” both the ICC and the ICJ – the very institutions through which accountability might otherwise be pursued.

What is unfolding in Lebanon is the political continuation of an ongoing settler-colonial project. The evacuation orders are precursors to mass destruction, designed to prevent return and permanently alter the landscape. Stability in the Middle East demands more than ceasefire agreements that manage fragmented populations while permitting lower-grade warfare to continue. It requires unconditional enforcement of international law, full accountability for those prosecuting this doctrine, and the right of return and reconstruction – from Beit Hanoon to Beirut.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

Gaza City, the Gaza Strip – Shortly before the call to sunset prayer, Islam Dardouna stretches her hand towards a pot hanging over a makeshift stove fashioned from a battered metal can, with scraps of paper and pieces of wood feeding the fire beneath it.

Then she pauses. She turns her face away from the rising tongues of smoke. Her face stained with a thin layer of soot and her clothes steeped in the lingering smell of fumes, she takes a deep breath but does not immediately lift the lid.

In her right hand, Dardouna holds an asthma inhaler as though it were a ladle or tongs. With her other hand, she tries to prepare food for her three children.

“I can no longer tolerate the fire at all,” the 34-year-old says in a strained voice as she raises the inhaler to her mouth.

“We heat water on it, cook on it … everything. It completely destroyed my health,” she said, pointing to her chest.

Dardouna has been displaced from Jabalia in northern Gaza since the start of Israel’s genocidal war against Palestinians in the territory in October 2023.

She now lives with her husband – 37-year-old Muath Dardouna – and their children in Sheikh Ajleen, west of Gaza City.

A year and a half ago, their home was destroyed. Since then, the family has moved from place to place until they eventually settled in this camp alongside other displaced families.

Everything changed after the war began. But for Dardouna, having to cook daily over an open fire in the face of cooking gas and fuel ranks among the worst.

“Our entire life now is a struggle, searching for wood and things we never imagined we would need one day,” she says. “There is no cooking gas and no gas cylinders. We lost all of that during displacement.”

What makes the situation even harder is that she suffers from asthma and chronic chest allergies, conditions she says began during Israel’s 2008 war on Gaza when she inhaled the smoke of a phosphorus bomb that dropped on her house. Her situation improved over the years, but has dramatically worsened during the current war.

“I developed airway obstruction, and recently there were masses found in my lungs,” said Dardouna, who in January was hospitalised for six days after suffering from oxygen shortage.

“The doctors prescribed an oxygen cylinder for me,” she says, quietly. “But unfortunately, I cannot afford it.”

A prolonged shortage

Like so many others across Gaza, Dardouna is struggling amid a prolonged shortage of cooking gas and fuel that has persisted since the start of the war.

Supplies have remained severely limited even after a “ceasefire” came into effect in October that included provisions allowing the entry of fuel and essential goods into the territory.

However, the quantities that have entered since then remain far below the population’s actual needs, according to official sources in Gaza and United Nations agencies.

The UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs says the availability of cooking gas in Gaza remains “critically constrained”, with the limited quantities entering the territory covering less than three percent of what is required.

As a result, many families have been forced to rely on alternative and often hazardous cooking methods.

UN data indicates that about 54.5 percent of households rely on firewood for cooking, roughly 43 percent burn waste or plastic, and only around 1.5 percent are able to cook with gas.

Humanitarian groups warn that such unsafe alternatives endanger people’s health and the environment due to prolonged exposure to smoke and toxic fumes produced by burning plastic and other waste.

Amid these conditions, cooking over open fires made from wood, scrap materials or plastic has become a daily reality across displacement camps and neighbourhoods throughout Gaza.

The crisis has intensified during the Muslim holy month Ramadan, when families must prepare both suhoor meals before their daily fast and iftar meals afterwards.

Firewood has become expensive, requiring a daily budget. Lighting the fire before dawn is also often difficult due to the lack of lighting and unfavourable weather conditions, so the family often skips the pre-dawn meal entirely.

“Today, for example, it’s raining and windy. I couldn’t light the fire,” said Darduna’s husband, Muath, who is also helping out with the daily cooking.

“Even when we break our fast, we wish we could drink a cup of tea or coffee afterwards, but we can’t, because lighting the fire again is another struggle.”

A former psychosocial support worker for children, Muath says it pains him to see his children fasting without suhoor.

“Every detail of our lives is literally suffering,” he says. “Fetching water is suffering. Cooking is suffering. Even going to the bathroom is suffering. We are truly exhausted,” he added.

“Our lives are covered in soot,” Muath says, pointing to the black smoke stains left by the fire.

He describes gas as “one of our dreams”, recalling how “it felt like Eid day” when the family got a gas cylinder a few months ago. “But we don’t even have the stove to use it, and many families are like us,” he said.

“We are living on the edge of nothing. Displacement and war stripped us of everything,” he adds. “We are willing to live with the simplest rights in tents. But there is no heating, no gas, no lighting. It feels like we are living in open graves on Earth.”

Serious implications

In a statement on Wednesday, the General Petroleum Authority in Gaza warned of the “catastrophic and dangerous consequences of the continued halt in cooking gas supplies” to the territory, stressing that the crisis “directly affects the lives of more than two million residents” amid already dire humanitarian conditions.

The authority said Gaza had already been facing a shortfall of about 70 percent of its actual gas needs compared with the quantities that entered after the “ceasefire” announcement.

It added that the “complete suspension of gas supplies places the Gaza Strip before a looming disaster that threatens food and health security”, particularly during Ramadan.

The authority also said that preventing gas from entering the enclave constitutes a “clear violation of the ceasefire understandings”, calling on mediators and international actors to intervene urgently to ensure the regular flow of cooking gas into Gaza.

Across Gaza, many families now rely on ready-made meals from aid distributions and charity kitchens because of economic collapse and the difficulty of cooking.

“Even when food arrives ready hours before iftar,” Muath says, “heating it becomes another problem.”

The frustration of daily survival pushes Muath to the brink.

“As a father now, I cannot even provide the most basic things,” he says. “Imagine my son simply wants a cup of tea … even a little wind can stop me from making it.”

‘The fire suffocates you’

In a nearby tent, Amani Aed al-Bashleqi, 26, sits watching food being cooked over an open fire for iftar while her husband stirs the pot.

She said cooking on fire makes food taste “flavourless” – not because the taste changes, but because “exhaustion and suffering have become part of every bite”.

“We start cooking early so we can finish by iftar, and after breaking the fast, my husband and I are completely exhausted and covered in soot.”

Like Dardouna, al-Bashleqi says the smoke causes severe headaches and health problems.

“The fire suffocates you. All the women in the camp suffer health problems from cooking on fire,” she says. “But we have no choice.”

She has a seven-month-old baby, and her biggest worry is boiling water for his milk.

“Sometimes I boil water and keep it in a borrowed thermos, but I don’t always have one,” she says. “And sometimes when he wakes up at night, I mix the milk with water without boiling it, even though I know that’s not healthy. But what can I do?”

Nearby, Iman Junaid, 34, displaced from Jabalia to western Gaza City, sits with her husband Jihad, 36, in front of the fire preparing food.

Junaid blows on the flames while she pushes an empty plastic oil bottle under the fire.

Behind them, bags full of plastic bottles are piled up. The family collected them to fuel the fire because cooking gas has been unavailable for months.

A mother of six, Junaid says she knows the health dangers of burning plastic, but has “no other choice”.

“My little daughter is one year old, and her chest always hurts because she inhales the smoke,” she says. “Our life is collecting and burning plastic and nylon.”

“With the price of wood rising, we now wish we could even find wood. Gas has become almost impossible … we’ve forgotten it.”

She said there were many promises that gas would enter Gaza after the “ceasefire”, but “nothing happened”.

For Dardounah, the solution is not simply bringing cooking gas into Gaza. “What we need is for life to become possible again,” she says.

“Let gas enter. Let goods enter at reasonable prices. Let there be basic necessities for a normal life.”